Contentment and Forensics? What do these two have in common, you ask. My answer: Aw, you know me. Absolutely nothing, except for the fact I have a little of both in today's blog entry.
First, contentment. I earlier signed up with MeGardenGal to participate in her 30 days of contentment therapy. I haven't done a very good job staying on topic. It's not because I'm discontented. It's because I am contented.
Yes, during times of unrest and financial distress, I remain somehow somewhat contented. Of course, I have my days. Yesterday was one. Nothing seemed to go the way it was "supposed" to. I couldn't find important information we needed and I became very frustrated and irritated. It threw me into a mad document-filing frenzy (that still isn't finished as of today) but I am now content with the knowledge that so many unnecessary papers are no longer in the way (Thank Goodness one of the banks today sponsored a paper shredding event!). Keeping things filed properly and in their place helps keep me content. I happen to be married to a man who could seemingly care less and this household has, of recent years, somehow edged its way over to that dark side.
Yet still, I remain content until something happens (such as yesterday) when I explode off my proverbial rocker and do my level best to put things together again in a (for me) more liveable situation. Ah, contentment!
Now, turning to forensics: No, I'm not a real forensics scientist, although I watch a lot of actors who portray them on TV.
That was the disclaimer. Now for the description of this real-life incident!
It was the other night. Dinner was in the oven, not quite finished. I was sitting here at my computer. Hubby was in the living room, stretched out on the couch watching television when suddenly, the still was interrupted by a couple THUDs, a few sounds of CLOP-CLOP and sounds of a car engine revving. I heard Hubby go out the front door, return into the house via the back door, then he was quickly gone again. Hmm. That was unusual in itself. He never leaves the house without letting me know nor kissing me goodbye.
I waited a few minutes, listening for his return. Curiosity got the better of me and I slipped on some shoes and went outside where several of our neighbors had gathered next to our house.
They gave me the Readers Digest Condensed Version of what happened. Some guy in a black or dark colored truck was speeding down the road, lost control and went off the road, shattering two mail boxes, a couple newspaper tubes and taking down about a hundred feet of barbed wire fence before landing in the creek. (This picture was taken after the mailboxes were replaced)(Said creek runs along part of our front yard but the damage was done in the front of the cow pasture next to us.)
The 4-wheel drive vehicle had almost turned upside down in the creek. My Hubby advised the driver that he would never get out of that slippery, muddy creek area, as did our neighbor. The driver thought otherwise and continued to shift his vehicle from low to reverse, rocking back and forth, before managing to get the vehicle to thrust itself up from its would-be tomb back onto the road, almost running over our neighbor in the process.
He then turned the truck around and disappeared down the road. This is the point where Hubby and Neighbor jumped into our truck and proceeded to "track" the culprit. How did they track this truck?
It was wrapped up in almost 100 feet of barbed wire, dragging huge pieces of metal behind it, leaving scratches and scuffs in the road. (Aren't forensics wonderful?) Sure enough, they followed the truck to a house not far from here where they sat outside and called the sheriff, who had already been called by the neighbors they left behind back at our place.
Okay, long story less long - everyone ended up reconvening back at the creek with the missing fence and broken mail boxes area. The sheriffs asked Hubby and neighbors if they could identify the guy who had confessed already confessed to being the driver who had also confessed to being scared and leaving the scene, running back home. Everyone was honest. No, they said. It was too dark. Nobody could positively identify him. Do you agree these colors show up really pretty at night? It was, however, difficult to not be able to say that the dark truck in his driveway that was wrapped up in about 100 feet of rusty barbed wire was definitely the truck that everyone (except me) saw in the ditch.
Since nobody could positively identify the fence/mail box assailant, he would not be ticketed. However, he was verbally advised that he would need to pay for damages.
Isn't this an exciting blog?